


Choices

by MitziMartyn



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Adventure, Canon Era, Courtship, F/M, One-Sided Attraction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-09-09 15:08:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8895979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MitziMartyn/pseuds/MitziMartyn
Summary: Courting a Phantomhive isn't easy as Alexis Midford finds out for himself.





	1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

Vincent glanced at the clock and frowned. Not because he minded making his guests wait, but because he wasn’t planning to waste the better part of his evening on a simple mission.

He threw his blood-stained shirt on the bed, somewhat annoyed about the progress of that day. The man he had to deal with should be grateful he didn’t feel _playful_ that night, but since his brain was mostly splattered somewhere around the Rosemary Lane he probably couldn’t think much about anything, least of all about their encounter.

Mr Tanaka entered the room and immediately started helping his master to make himself presentable for the soiree.

“How is Frances dealing?” Vincent asked while the elderly man was buttoning up his shirt.

“Paragon of hospitality and grace, your Lordship, as always.”

The young nobleman stopped fiddling with his cuff links and laughed shortly. The hint of tension around his lips disappeared at last. “You mean I should hurry up.”

 

* * *

 

 

His sister seemed quite at ease in her evening gown, talking to miss Dalles and her sister – almost as much at ease as a grizzly bear stuck in a tutu. She had that in common with Rachel’s sister – what was her name again? Anne? Adele? It was something beginning with an A, for sure.

“About time you showed up,” somebody grumbled behind him and he didn’t need to turn around to recognise Diederich.

“I didn’t believe you would miss me so – I hope you didn’t start chewing on the furniture out of boredom. Is Midford here or did my beloved sister scare him away already?”

As if on a cue, Diederich’s ex-fag appeared, which wasn’t really that surprising, because since he lost that fencing duel against Frances, he kept appearing everywhere. There were days when Vincent almost hesitated to open the drawer of his writing desk, just in case Midford would be waiting there.

“Thank you for the invitation!” A broad, sincere smile so bright Vincent wanted to shield his eyes. That was the thing about Midford. He was easy to like. A bit like a golden retriever puppy with a bright red bow napping under a lit Christmas tree.

“I am glad you came,” Vincent responded with a graceful smile while Diederich made a sound that could be either interpreted as ‘nice to see you’ or ‘I am choking on a sandwich and request immediate help’. “It has been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Certainly,” Alexis agreed, although his eyes wandered over towards the group of ladies. Everyone could see why he sought the Phantomhives’ company, although Vincent couldn’t say for sure whether Frances had yet to notice her brand-new puppy or whether she hoped it would go away if she ignored it for long enough. “Do you think miss Phantomhive would care for a dance?”

“I cannot possibly speak for her, you must ask her yourself.” Vincent smiled, but his eyes narrowed slightly. If he _could_ speak for her, things would be easier for all parties involved. Safer. But he could either control the Underworld, or he could control his sister. It was in no man’s power to manage both at the same time. 

Alexis bowed his head and headed towards Frances, Rachel and… Amanda? Alice?

He couldn’t but marvel at how radiant Frances looked that night, beautiful as always and it took a great deal of courage to approach her. She wasn’t just beautiful – as much as Alexis admired her grace, he respected her mainly for the virtues he never found united in a single person; her strength, straightforwardness, honest manners devoid of coquetry.

It sure sucked he had no idea how to impress her, or at least how to make up for the fencing tournament where she wiped the floor with him. Now he thought about it, he had never seen her dance, so perhaps she didn’t care for such frivolities?

He bowed to the ladies, cleared his throat and asked: “Will you honour me with your hand for a waltz, lady Frances?”

She accepted his arm, serious as ever and he was grateful for his gloves, because at least she wouldn’t find out how sweaty his hands got. Once the music sounded, a little wrinkle appeared between her brows and Alexis feared he managed to offend her somehow during the fifteen seconds they had spent together.

“The music plays out of time,” she remarked, avoiding his eyes when she stepped on his foot for the fourth time.

Alexis couldn’t agree, although he would love to, so he tactfully remained silent, about the matter. “Still, it is wonderful to meet you here tonight. I was afraid your training would keep you too occupied to attend. I hope one day we will have the opportunity for a rematch.”

“If that is so, then you should be the one busy training,” Frances quipped and a ghost of smile appeared on her face.

And Alexis knew he shouldn’t push his luck, but he still responded with a joke of his own. Only that he meant it seriously. And it wasn’t a joke. “If I win, will you allow me to court you?”

Silence fell between them and he felt his soul leaving his body, for it was not ready to deal with the consequences of asking something like that out of nowhere.

They stopped dancing. Or the whole world stopped, he couldn’t say for sure. Her hand slipped from his grasp.

“Only then I would consider it,” she responded.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s not really my thing to include author’s note, but I promise not to do that too often in this fic either. First and foremost, thank you all for your kind reviews. Getting one always makes my day. Nudge nudge, wink wink.   
> Anyway, since it’s exams time (yay!) for me, there isn’t as much time for writing as I would like and this is where I’d like to hear from you – do you prefer shorter, regular chapters or longer things with er… slightly irregular schedule? Let me know, please.   
> And, before I forget, if you like sneak peaks or if you have any questions, you can find me on tumblr. The name’s nohrianxscum. Can’t miss it.   
> The plot decided to show up. Don’t worry, there will be more of that. Enjoy!

**II.**

Over the years, Diederich concluded that Vincent simply enjoyed making him wait. Whether it was yet another way to establish his dominance or simple childishness, he didn’t know, but at that point it wouldn’t surprise him if Phantomhive one day decided to fake his death just to test his patience.

He plopped into an armchair by the fireplace and sighed, his hands resting loosely on his lap. Not only Phantomhive still treated him like his personal servant, but the day before he got the strangest request from Midford, who asked him to help him with his training, because apparently, Diederich had nothing better to do.   
Of course, he did agree, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t grumble about it.

The door opened and Frances entered the room, followed by a maid carrying a tray with tea, scones and those tiny sandwiches of which you had to eat at least two at the same time to feel you actually had something in your mouth.   
Immediately, he stood up and bowed to her in greeting, to which she responded with a curtsy.

“Good afternoon.”

“And to you. Vincent said he would join you soon,” she explained, pouring tea for them both. “Have a seat.”

“Ever so punctual, that brother of yours,” he growled, but then he sat down again, leaned back in the armchair and tension disappeared from his face. “That soiree yesterday was nice. I didn’t know you danced.”

“You never asked me to,” she responded and lifted her teacup to her lips. Diederich paused, mouth open, a sandwich – only one, since there was a lady present – in hand. He had that unpleasant feeling her remark held more meaning than what he was willing to decipher.

The door flew open and Vincent appeared. Never in his life had Diederich been happier to see him.

“I see you got comfortable, almost as if we weren’t busy,” Vincent quipped and the German wasn’t so happy to see him anymore.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to join?” Frances asked, calm as composed as ever.

“It’s a routine kind of business tonight, Dee will do just fine,” Vincent assured her, while Diederich entertained the idea of throwing the tea tray on him. It wouldn’t be of use in the long run, he decided, and Frances probably wouldn’t be pleased about that.

Instead, he got up, picked up his hat and bowed to the young woman again.

“It was nice seeing you,” he said and meant it.

 

* * *

 

  

Routine kind of business, he said. It would be over in a couple of hours, he said. Somehow Vincent forgot to mention the mission would include running through the maze of East End’s backstreets guided only by sheer chance. He wasn’t yet twenty and still he felt too old for that.

“How did they know we’d be there?” Diederich asked when they finally stopped, clutching his chest. Yes, way too old.

“They’re bloody fortune-tellers, obviously,” Vincent groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Somebody tipped them off.”

“A rat?”

Vincent gave him a long, tired look. “You are lucky that you are so handsome.”

 

* * *

 

At the opposite side of London, Frances wore a strikingly similar expression while standing in front of a bouquet of white bell flowers. Not that _these_ flowers offended her, no. It was the single violet columbine partially hidden amongst them. _Resolved to win_ in the language of flowers.

She removed it from the bouquet and hastily slipped it between the pages of the book she had been reading earlier, lest someone should tease her about it. Her brother, for example.  
Frances thought it wiser not to mention the brief conversation with Midford during the soiree, because now she was thinking about it, it sounded as if she promised him her favour if he emerged victorious from their next duel, as unlikely as that was.

She glanced at the clock and sighed. It was about time to prepare for the opera with her brother’s fiancée, her sister and their mother and she couldn’t possibly call it off on such a short notice, as much as she was tempted to do just that – not that Frances didn’t enjoy Rachel’s company, but whenever Vincent left for a mission, she couldn’t relax until he returned. Not since ‘the lamentable incident’ which led to a swift change of the head of the Phantomhive household.

At least he had Diederich to watch his back that evening. With the book under her arm, she headed into her bedroom to get dressed.

 

* * *

 

“It must be someone in the house,” Vincent stated, leaning against the brick wall with his eyes fixed on the dark, dark sky. “But there were no additions to the staff recently which means either somebody decided to betray us or we have had a rat for a while already.”

“I don’t know which is worse. Maybe you should change your base until you find him.”

“Thank you for the offer.”

“I didn’t-“ Diederich stopped himself. It _was_ the most logical solution, after all. He lazily scanned the street. They stopped in front of a seedy little pub; full of people, full of noise. By the door stood a young man, handing out leaflets, probably invitations to some lectures. Every now and then it happened, those attempts to ‘reform the lower classes through instruction’, though it never worked. Most of the people couldn’t even read the leaflets, but the paper would be put to good use nevertheless.

“We’ve reached a historical moment,” Vincent announced out of nowhere. Although he kept his tone casual, the smile he wore didn’t quite reach his eyes. It seldom did. “It is now a full one day since I last saw your fag.”  


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for how long it took me to update. You have my word that it was for serious reasons and I daren’t make any promises concerning updates at this point. As per usual, reviews are much appreciated and if you feel like it, say hi to me on tumblr (nohrianxscum).

**III.**

When Frances returned from the opera, Vincent was waiting in her room, sitting on the bed next to a closed suitcase, hands folded in front of his face in a prayer-like position. She closed the door – he looked up and nodded in greeting.

“What happened?” Frances asked, removing her gloves.

“You will be staying in the townhouse for the next few days,” he announced in a matter-of-fact tone. “I have arranged it with Tanaka already, you are leaving tomorrow morning. Something unexpected came up.”

The young woman sat next to her brother – quiet at first, waiting for him to continue. Finally, irritated by his stubborn silence, she pointed out: “I am not leaving my home, not without a reason.”

“We should not talk about it here. I will meet you there and then we can discuss to your heart’s content. Irene packed already.”

“ _Vincent_.”

“As much as I’d love to argue with you, at least one of us needs their beauty sleep.” Said that, he stood up – a little stiffly, she noted – and headed to the door.

“I can handle myself; if there’s something wrong, I will be of more use here than in the townhouse.” He made even less sense than usually – until recently, he often let her accompany him on missions and trusted her to take care of herself in tough situations. Then what could provoke such a change of mind in him?

“Yes, I know you do, but why court danger when it is not necessary?” He laughed, his voice as hollow as his eyes. For a moment, he resembled their mother so much it hurt. “The country cannot afford to lose us both, sister.”

Frances stood up, approached her brother and placed her hand on his shoulder in her best shot at a comforting gesture. “Do you promise to tell me everything tomorrow if – _if_ – I consent to leave?”

“All the dirty details. You have my word.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Frances was looking out of the carriage window, an unopened letter on her lap. It came earlier that morning with the post, but she had been putting away the moment when she would open it, seeing the handwriting didn’t look familiar.

Not that she didn’t have a suspect in mind already – a man, about a sigh shorter than Diederich, blond and trying to grow a moustache, in vain.

Frances wouldn’t be able to explain what unsettled her so about the envelope in her hands. Young Midford could be easily described as an agreeable gentleman. He was easy to like. Then, perhaps that was the reason – he didn’t resemble any of the men around her and so she hardly knew what to think about him.  
Scolding herself for her own foolishness, she reached to tear the envelope open – just then the carriage stopped and she stuck the letter into a hidden pocket of her cape.

The door opened and Vincent joined her inside.

“Glad to see you, dear sister. Now we can go on to the actual destination.”

“What are you talking about?”

“If there is a rat in the mansion, I cannot guarantee the townhouse is any safer, so I contacted an old acquaintance. She is rather reclusive, so nobody should be looking for you there.”

“Somebody from your network?”

“No, actually, Rachel introduced us. It will be all very proper and very dull, just the way you like it. If you need anything, I will be at Diederich’s place, most likely. The mission yesterday didn’t go as planned-”

“If it was _your_ plan, I am not surprised.”

“You are the one to talk. Remember when-”

“ _Yes_ , I do,” Frances retorted, her tone pointed. Two years later, Vincent _still_ had to bring up that one isolated happenstance. “And it was the most efficient course of action at that moment. You simply cannot get over the fact you did not think of it yourself.”

“I couldn’t look at ginger the same way ever since. But back to the problem at hand – something was different yesterday. Their timing was too perfect, as if they knew where and where we would be. The logical conclusion is, that it was somebody from the house and it will take less time to solve if I don’t have to worry about your safety.”

“You do not have to worry about my safety, Vincent.”

“But I still do – am I not the sweetest brother?”

They spent the rest of their journey in silence, buried in thoughts; Frances thinking about the letter hidden in her cape, Vincent wondering when did every person he cared for become a liability. He _knew_ his sister could handle everything that came with being a Phantomhive, but it wasn’t what he wanted for her. It was Vincent who inherited the title of the Queen’s Watchdog and he was comfortable in the shadows – perhaps too much for somebody so young. His eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness – he could spot the faint glimmer of a weapon, he could make out the cocky grin of a man who didn’t yet know he was about to die and he could see clearly that his sister didn’t belong into that filth.

She was good and honourable and the world they lived in wasn’t.


End file.
